


Lament

by Wilhelm_Crowe



Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Character Death, Complete, Gen, Honor, Self-Sacrifice, Short One Shot, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28097253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wilhelm_Crowe/pseuds/Wilhelm_Crowe
Summary: A desperate last stand against a World Eater in a burning hive city.The Emperor protects.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	Lament

Lament

Markus snarled in fury as he flung the marine across the chapel, his power pack sparking as it crushed through a stone column. In half a second he was on his foe again, the red overtaking his vision as his chain-axe came down hard. The screeching cacophony of metal on metal filled the hive-city block as the wounded Astartes brought up his chainsword to parry the blow. Markus lashed out with a ceramite-shod boot, cracking a savage blow to his foe’s helmet and sending him sprawling. The kick was hard enough to leave traces of crimson paint on the once-proud yellow of the Lamenter’s power armor. Markus stalked forward slowly, revving his weapon. His prey staggered to his feet, bracing his back against a support column. Markus could hear the screaming from the pathetic faithful that had gathered in the chapel. As if they believed the Emperor of Maggot-Kind would keep them safe. Cowards. Under his brass helm his lip curled in disgust. His war cry was a low growl from his vox system, resonating and echoing under the vaulted ceiling.  
“Blood for the blood god.”

Matthias coughed blood under his helmet, his HUD flickering, a crack evident in the lens of his left eye where the Khornate traitor’s boot had connected. His right hand tightened around the grip of his chainsword, behind the hulking, crimson butcher was a thin, pale boy. Tall and lanky, a smaller young girl crouched behind him, awe in their eyes but fear as well, unable to move. The Lamenter held his head high, bringing his faltering sword-arm in front of his face in a guard, his response to the heretic’s challenge. He heard the blood-mad marine laugh as his blows came as fast as lightning. The discordant shrieking of chain-on-chain was almost deafening, Matthias found himself overwhelmed, stumbling backwards, the weight of his power armor cracking the altar to the God-Emperor as he was forced backwards upon it. He prayed forgiveness for his sacrilege as the traitor marine raised his axe for a final blow.  
“Skulls for the skull throne!”

Pieter was frozen, paralyzed, his sister’s hands bunched into his shirt, but she shook her off as he saw the towering figure in yellow armor crash on top of the altar. His grip tightened around the jagged spike of rebar and he pushed his sister backwards down into the catacombs, sprinting forward as fast as his long legs could carry him, launching himself into the air at the last moment. He saw the axe begin its descent and brought his improvised weapon down with all his might. It sparked harmlessly off the Chaos Marine’s armor, but Pieter looped an arm around the hulking berzerker’s neck, bringing the sharp metal down twice more. He felt a cold, intense pressure on his head as the heretic jerked him sharply forward and held him helplessly at arm’s length like a ragdoll.  
“Does your Divine Carcass protect you now, boy?”  
Pieter felt the armored fist tighten and his bones begin to fracture under the inhuman’s grip. But a new voice spoke weakly from the altar, the Lamenter rose to his feet.  
“For those I cherish...”

Matthias hurt. His carapace was broken in four places, one of his hearts has been pierced by shrapnel, and he now realized that one of his eyes had gone dark from the force of the World Eater’s brutal assault. His left arm was broken, rents and gashes streaked red across his armor in a dozen places and he could barely stand. But he stood, readying his chainsword, nearly out of power. He felt calm in what he knew would be his last moments. He saw the neck of his foe exposed, a killing strike, perhaps, but his death-spasms would crush the boy’s head. He made his choice. Bringing his chainsword down with all his remaining might on the extended arm that held aloft the civilian.  
“I DIE IN GLORY!” 

Markus scarcely felt the pain as the monomolecular teeth of the Loyalist’s chainsword bit into his arm. He dropped the boy and recoiled, bringing his axe up across the chest of his adversary, splitting the golden skull in half, blood pouring from the wound and showering Markus as he laughed his hymne to Khorne. He tore off his helmet, the blood on the lenses would ruin his view of the kill, only to find the pathetic human standing in front of the space marine.  
Matthias watched as the young hiver stood in front of him, between his own broken body and the raging butcher. 

Pieter gripped his shiv in white knuckles, jaw set, but knees trembling. 

Markus stopped, his axe hit the floor. His right hand shot out faster than the boy could react and he was lifted off his feet, thrown bodily behind the nine-foot man in crimson armor. It was as Markus turned to throw the wretched human that Markus felt himself knocked off his own feet, the Lamenter on top of him now, he barely was able to stop the combat knife from piercing his throat, instead the cold metal bit painfully through the palm of his left hand. He roared in pain and anger as he shoved the wounded Lamenter away and landed a series of heavy blows on his helmet, feeling it cave in with great satisfaction. Markus stood breathing heavily as again, the Lamenter staggered backwards.

Matthias pried the ruined helm from his bloodied face, spitting up a tooth, knife held tight in his hands. He recited his chapter’s creed to himself, quietly, a silent prayer not meant for any ears except his own and his Emperor’s.  
“For those we cherish, we die in glory.”  
Markus looked to the marine, then to the boy, curled up and coughing painfully on the ground.  
“Tell me why, dog. Why do you strike so fiercely for them?”  
The words were bitter, spat from his mouth with contempt.  
“Because-” Matthias paused to cough yet more blood, his vision now grey.  
“Because they are the Imperium. Because they are worthy of all this...sacrifice.”

Markus drew a deep breath, fists tight by his sides as he stalked forward to the wounded but undaunted marine. He blocked the desperate strike of the knife, the horrific splintering of breaking ceramite once again resounded around the chamber as he broke the Lamenter’s other arm. He took the man by the throat and lifted him high up from the ground, a hint of something besides hate in his eyes as he watched the Lamenter. Markus would never know his name, but Matthias watched as the boy and his sister ran outside, away from the butcher. To safety. He smiled. The World Eater’s final words were oddly quiet as his grip tightened and he felt the Loyalist’s neck snap.  
“Die well, little brother.”  
Markus dropped the corpse to the ground, sealed his great brass helm back on his head, and picked up his axe. His massive strides quickly caught up to the boy and his sister as they hobbled along the war-torn streets. They froze as he towered over them. He felt his finger move to engage his chain-axe, the fine teeth becoming one unending blur. He heard his battle-brother Valak’s voice ring in his ears as he stepped beside him, grabbing the girl, lifting her in the air, slowly bringing his own blade to her throat.  
“Blood for the bl-”  
Valak’s mantra was cut off, along with his arm, and Markus brought his axe up, before the other chaos marine could react with anything more than a pained splutter Markus brought the axe back down. Severing his head, and finishing the creed.  
“Skulls for the skull throne.”  
He cast a resentful eye over the pair of humans that clung to each other. Weak. There would be no glory for him in their deaths. That was Valak’s mistake. Khorne craved the blood of warriors, not defenseless children. As Markus turned away he thought back to the Space Marine who had died alone, fighting a hopeless war, yet with a smile on his face. 

That was a good death.


End file.
